


Dr. Lehnsherr Logic (Lehnsherr M.D. Remix)

by JackyJango



Series: Remixes [1]
Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Best Friends, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Doctors & Physicians, Erik Logic Is The Best Logic, Eventual Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 11:43:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11440158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackyJango/pseuds/JackyJango
Summary: In which Dr. Erik Lehnsherr is a celebrated medical diagnostician with little time for rules and bureaucracy and even less for charity galas, and Dr. Charles Xavier is a neurosurgeon and Erik's long-suffering best friend who somehow always ends up being the one to deal with him.





	Dr. Lehnsherr Logic (Lehnsherr M.D. Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lachatblanche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Lehnsherr M.D.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4575474) by [lachatblanche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/pseuds/lachatblanche). 
  * In response to a prompt by [lachatblanche](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/pseuds/lachatblanche) in the [xmen_remix_madness2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/xmen_remix_madness2017) collection. 



> For lachatblanche's work is absolutely lovely!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this one too.  
> Cheers!

           'Oh, come on Raven. We aren't that late, ’ Charles tells his sulking sister on his arm. 

'Yes, we are! ’ she grits through her teeth, agitated. 'You took at hour to get ready. Angel texted me ages ago that the gala has begun.’

Charles rolls his eyes. Ages meaning ten minutes back. Charles wore scrubs all day. Dressing up for the gala was a refreshing change and if he had taken a few more minutes trying to stylise his hair, he surely couldn’t be blamed. 

‘That’s not true,’ he tries to defend. ‘I was ready by the time you came to pick me up.’ 

‘Liar!’ Raven hisses. ‘You weren’t ready. You were trying to tame that bird nest on top of your head.’

‘Oh! No you don’t…’

And like that, they start bickering. It continues on the walk to the reception of the hotel, up the lift ride to the topmost floor and down the corridor to the entrance of the ballroom.

His record for arguing with his sister for the longest period over a single topic currently stood at two months and eleven days. Left to them, they could go on, pull the entire hospital staff into the squabble and bribe them to pick sides. It  _ has  _ happened before. Thus, he accepts defeat. ‘All right. I’m sorry milady. Do you want to waste the rest of the evening quarrelling with me or do you want to catch up with your friends?’

The proffered victory sobers Raven up, for she grins wolfishly. Turning to face him, she clamps his shoulders with both her hands. With her heels, she’s a few inches taller than him. In an airy voice, which Charles has found out to be a weak imitation of his, she says, ‘All right old man. Go find somebody your own age and have fun. Don’t be seen with me for the rest of the evening. And drink only what your liver can handle.’

With that, she runs off, the train of her royal blue dress trailing after her. Charles chuckles to himself. On the other side of the ballroom, Raven and Angel greet each other excitedly.

Every year, the  Genoshan hospital hosts a charity gala. With Emma as its ringmaster, there’s no dearth of opulence or style. And, every year, Charles finds Erik at the bar, dressed to the nines in a form fitting tux, sitting on a high bar stool and  broodily nursing a drink. It’s mostly scotch. On seeing Charles, he'll criticize the concept of a gala stating: ‘Charity should involve helping the needy. Not feasting and drinking in their name.’ He scowls and complains throughout, but the next day, he donates a portion of his earnings anonymously. Nobody knows that, of course, except Charles. Charles can understand Erik’s quibbling. Erik hadn’t grown up with easy money like Emma, Raven and him. He had struggled relentlessly to create a name for himself. So just maybe, he could cut Erik some slack. More so because, he was biased towards his best friend. 

This year, too, he finds Erik at the bar nursing a martini. He’s sitting on the same bar stool, one leg hitched up on the wooden dowel and the other sprawled out in front of him. The lowlights of the bar play with the sharp angles of his pensive face, making him look mysterious and dangerous. It’s unfair how he carries the tux with an air Charles can’t quite manage.

And, like every other year, his bowtie is crooked. Charles smiles fondly. Some things don’t change. There’s an uncanny comfort in that.

Charles is halfway across to the bar when a strong hand grips his arm and hauls him to the side. 

‘You look gorgeous Emma,’ he tells the owner of the hand on recovering from the jolt.

That earns him a derisive snort. ‘When don’t I Sugar?’ she says, straightening her snow white dress. The diamonds of her necklace and earrings shine brightly under the halogen lights. 

Charles rolls his eyes.

Emma continues, ‘I have a task for you. Babysit your  sharkfaced boyfriend.’ 

‘Hey! He’s not my boyfriend,’ Charles protests. But Emma ignores him as though he hadn’t spoken a word.

She continues, rattling a set of instructions, ‘There shouldn't be any snide remarks or tantrums from him. He is to just sit there and look like James Bond. When I ask him to, he is to smile but not too much. Not at all in that scary way of his. He is to shake a few hands, be nice to Dr. McTaggert and go back to looking dashing. And you,’ she says pointing a finger in his face, ‘will make sure of that.’

Charles stifles a laugh. Just to rile her up, he asks, ‘Why not have him just sit there and look dashing throughout? I’m sure he’ll comply.’

‘That would be preferable. Wouldn’t it?’ The features of her face lock in a scowl. ‘But, he heads diagnostics. I can’t have him hiding in the back somewhere. I need him in the welcoming party.’

Emma’s vexation is all for show. She knows how important an asset Erik is for the hospital. Plus, the two are eerily fond of each other. Like long lost brother and sister.

‘Dr. Charles Xavier, work your charm and bring in some cash.’ With that, she walks off.

Charles sighs and crosses the distance to the bar. 

‘Hello!’ he greets Erik with his most charming smile, hoping that it’ll diffuse Erik’s agitation a little.

‘This is a perfect waste of my Friday evening,’ Erik complains. The frown on his forehead deepens further.

Charles would have a tough night ahead. He flags the bartender and orders a whisky.

Turning to Erik, he says, ‘Hey, it’s not  _ that _ bad. It’s like any other Friday evening. You, me and drinks. You must admit that the ambiance is much better.’

‘I like the ambiance of our regular bar just fine,’ Erik growls.

‘Erik, you’re being difficult for no reason.’

‘I don’t understand this Charles,’ Erik says shaking his head. ‘Why waste so much money on grandeur when you can use the same money to  _ do  _ something good?’

‘You have to pour money in order to pull money Erik.’ It was a line his mother had told him when he was young. He hadn't liked it then. He probably will never. But that is how society worked. ‘Hey, look at it this way, galas like this help collect way more money than you, Emma and I can put together. The reach will be far more, my friend.’

Erik stays quiet for a moment, likely parsing Charles’ reasoning in that logical mind of his. Then, he blows a breath, as if accepting defeat.

Encouraged, Charles places a gentle hand on Erik’s arm and says softly, ‘Just come and greet the chief guest. Shake a few hands and I’ll make sure that nobody bothers you for the rest of the evening.’ And after a beat he adds: ‘Please,’ pulling on the vowels.

Erik sighs. ‘Allright.’ 

For a while, they sip their drinks in silence. Like any other Friday evening. There’s soft jazz music playing in the background.

‘This chief guest you speak of, better not be a snobby know-it-all like last year,’ Erik finally says.

‘Hey! Howard Stark isn’t a snob. He’s just a character. And wait till you meet his son Tony.’

‘I take it that the two of you are chummies,’ Erik says with a snort.

‘We went to the same school.’ Charles shrugs the topic off. ‘You haven’t read the brochure that came with the invite. Have you?’

‘Sean and Alex have. I’m sure they would have told me if they found anything worth knowing.’ Erik shrugs carelessly.

‘Slave driver. ‘ Charles shoves at Erik’s shoulder with his, biting down on a smile. ‘This year’s chief guest is Dr. Moira McTaggert. She’s a renowned oncologist and…’

‘... and she heads the Government’s Cancer research programme. Ya, I’ve heard about her,’ Erik finishes the sentence and his drink. If Erik remembered somebody for their work, it was approval in his books.

‘Good, now that it’s settled.’ Charles beams.

Introductions go well. As requested of him, Erik speaks a few polite words with Dr. McTaggert and returns to his position at the bar while Charles gets pulled into a circle of conversations. He hops from group to group, shaking hands and describing his work at the hospital. Not that he minds, for not very often did he get to meet people outside his line of  work. Some of them he knows, and some are new faces he eagerly greets.

Now and then, he looks to the bar and at Erik. The taller man is still seated there, scowling at a group of interns posing for a selfie. As if on cue, he spots Alex and Sean carrying a tray of drinks.

Charles calls them over. The two boys come scurrying to him, leaving the tray on a table. He knows the art of delegation, too. Not just Erik.

‘Keep an eye on Erik at all times and make sure he doesn’t escape,’ he tells Sean. The red head nods vigorously. 

‘And you, Alex, make sure nobody goes near him.’ Alex nods firmly. 

Charles smiles fondly at the loyalty the boys hold for Erik. Angel and Raven were no less.

Charles bumps into Jean Grey after that, his classmate from medical college and he loses track of time. They talk about advancements in the field of neurosciences. Jean tells him how she plans to move to research. It’s heady to talk to a fellow neurologist. 

With Jean gone to use the facilities, Charles gets waved over by Emma.

‘Meet Dr. William Stryker, renowned Cardiologist,’ Emma introduces him to a man with a white beard covering his plump chin. Charles had heard about Dr. Stryker and seen him on the board of several medical conferences, but he never had the opportunity to meet the man in person.

Turning to Dr. Stryker, Emma says, ‘This is Dr. Charles Xavier. He heads neurosciences and is the head neurosurgeon of the hospital.’ 

‘Glad to meet to you Dr. Stryker,’ Charles says, offering his hand.

Dr. Stryker clasps his hand in a firm grip. ‘Ah! Brain Surgery! Important work. Fixing the minds of people, are we Dr. Xavier?’

Charles is sure that the comment was meant to be taken in mirth, but something in the way the man says it doesn’t sit well with him. 

Dr. Stryker looks down at Charles’ hand and examines it. ‘And steady hands, too. He sure is an asset Ms. Frost.’

Charles tries to maintain a polite conversation with Dr. Stryker. But it's stifling to hold a conversation with the man. His views are condensing. After a few minutes however, he excuses himself from the company. Luckily for him, Angel falls into step beside him almost immediately, not making his exit look deliberate. 

‘Four o’clock. Red dress.’ she says, looping her arm through his. There’s a beautiful girl looking lost and holding a drink in her hands when he looks in the direction. 

‘Her name is Theresa and she’s an intern at the hospital. She has a thing for Dr. Lehnsherr and she’s too chicken to approach him.’

‘Erik isn’t that scary, Angel. He doesn’t bite.’

‘I’m sure she wouldn’t mind even if he did.’ Angel smirks slyly; the implication clear.

Charles frowns. He doesn’t like thinking about it. He doesn’t know why, but he just doesn’t.

‘Come on Doc,’ Angel continues, ‘I know her. She’s a very sweet girl. I’m sure she’ll be good for Dr. Lehnsherr. Maybe, he’ll lighten a little. Will you talk to him about her?’

_ She’s too young _ , Charles wants to say. Erik needs someone mature enough to handle him. Someone who knows that he can’t drink a sip of green tea, that his favourite article of clothing is a grey sweatshirt, that he runs to calm his mind. Erik needs someone who knows that deep down, he’s a gentle giant.

But Erik also needs someone who can make him happy. As happy as he looks when he wins a chess  match, as happy when Charles brings him coffee in the middle of a busy shift or as happy sipping beer in their usual bar after Friday’s shift and commenting over a football game. 

There had been no one for Erik after Magda and she was a long time ago. Charles sighs. ‘Allright. I’ll talk to him.’ 

Angel beams. ‘Thanks Doc!’ Almost immediately, she walks away to where Alex and Raven are giggling. Kids.

When Charles turns to find Erik, he’s missing from his spot at the bar. Sean comes running to him and informs that Erik went to the terrace of the hotel despite his protests. He looks terrified, so much so that Charles suspects that the redhead is on the verge of tears. His face has blanched despite the exertion and his voice croaks. Sympathy for Sean seeds an anger towards Erik in Charles. 

The thick metal door to the terrace is open. The air is bitingly cold when Charles steps out of it. The wind wrecks his hair, sending the strands flying in every direction. So much for trying to style it. 

On the far compound wall, he spots Erik’s form, leaning over a metal railing and gazing at the myriad of vehicles below. 

‘How on earth did you get access to this place?’ he asks, walking up to the wall.

‘Will you believe if I told you that I can control metal?’ Erik asks. 

‘No.’ Charles comes to stand beside Erik. ‘This is typical of you. Listen Erik, I know that you don’t like being here and I completely understand. But that doesn't give you an excuse to treat Sean like that. He looks like he’s seen a ghost,’ Charles berates him.

Erik ignores him, his vision trained on the road below. 

Agitated further, Charles continues, ‘You do this all the time and I’m stuck with you. Trying to cover for you-’

‘Is it so bad?’ Erik interrupts him. He turns his face to Charles. ‘Is it so bad getting stuck with me?’

Erik’s face is pinched with pain. There’s a dolefulness in his voice and a hollowness in his eyes. Charles is taken aback by the sight. 

‘Erik I didn’t mean it like that…’ he trails off, his voice losing its bite.

'Just go Charles, ’ Erik says with a vulnerability that wrecks Charles' heart. He turns his face away from Charles’ form. It's a punch to the gut.

Charles closes the few inches of gap between them and places a gentle hand between Erik's clavicles. The muscles of Erik's back stiffen. 

'Erik, ’ he says slowly, 'what is this about? I know you, so don't tell me that this is about the gala.’ Charles begins caressing his hand up and down the muscles of Erik's back, in an attempt to loosen them. 'You know you can tell me anything Erik. I'll listen to you.’

The last thing Charles wants to do is force Erik into a conversation. Even if Erik doesn't confide in him, the least he can do is provide is companionship. So he simply rubs the taller man’s back up and down.

Charles is convinced that Erik won't utter a word, so he's surprised when the taller man begins to speak. Erik's face is still turned away from him and the former's voice is hesitant and uncertain. 'That man down there… Stryker, he was my mentor when I was interning at West End Hospital. After a few weeks, I began to notice that he wouldn't include me on his cases, wouldn't let me handle his files. I didn't realise it in the beginning, but it became apparent when my peers were assigned work and I wasn't. I confronted him one day. The only reason he had was that I was aiming for specialising in diagnostics and how unskilled, unimportant and insignificant the field was. 'I only mentor life savers, not sorry excuses for doctors’ he said. That's when I lost it. I attacked him and gave him a cut lip. I came very close to losing my licence for what I did.’

Erik doesn't appreciate pity, so Charles doesn't offer it. Instead, he moves further into Erik's orbit and almost whispers in his ears, ‘ You've never told me this before.’

'No. I haven’t. ’ Erik shakes his head. 'And if he sees me now, I know that he'll throw the same insults at me. Maybe, worse.’

Charles knows that the confession has put a toll on Erik’s heart. That every word is begrudgingly chosen and debated upon before being uttered. 

‘Listen.’ Erik pauses uncharacteristically. 'I don't give two fucks about what the other clowns down there think of me. But I… but I care about what Raven, Angel, Alex, Sean and Emma think. And I… And I care about what you think of me. I don't want you to think that I'm incompetent. ’

Unable to control his relief, Charles bursts out with laughter. Erik’s face finally turns to him with a glare, the green and blue of his eyes burning brightly to a smudged grey.

'You stupid man! You absolutely stupid man! ’ Charles reprimands him between bouts of laughter. His heart aches with fondness for the taller man. 

'Charles! ’ Erik's glare intensifies. There's a warning in it.

At that, Charles sobers. 'Well, I am not calling you something you're not ’ . He bodily pulls Erik upright. Organically his left hand meets Erik’s right. He cups Erik’s face with his right hand and caresses the jut of Erik’s cheekbone. With an impossibly fond smile, Charles says, ‘Do you think that Angel, Alex and Sean work under you because they prefer tyranny? Do you think that Emma is stupid enough to hand over an entire department just because you’re handsome? Do you think that Raven chose diagnostics just to escape my shadow? No Erik. It’s all because of how good a doctor you are. Your patients are a proof of that. If only you could spend a few minutes accepting their gratitude, you would know. The interns adore your work Erik, worship you even. In fact, there’s a beautiful girl downstairs who's even interested in you and with whom Angel wants me to set you up with. And I,’ he pauses to move closer, so close that their chests brush. ‘Do you think I consult you on my cases just because you’re my friend of twelve years? No, you stupid man. It’s because you’re the best physician I know Dr. Lehnsherr.’ Charles can feel the cold wind tingling his back and Erik’s heat guarding his front. His voice drops to a whisper. ‘Tell me you understand.’

Erik doesn’t respond. His grey eyes roam around Charles’ face as if searching for something. He seems to find whatever he's looking for, his jaw clenches and he jerks his head in a firm nod. 

This close, Charles can smell Erik’s cologne. Like the man himself,  it’s spicy. Their faces are so close that their breaths are mingling and their noses will brush with a tilt of his head. Even with the wind howling in their faces, Erik’s close cut crop is hugging to his skull. It’s not fair how only Charles’ hair has to look like a bird’s nest. He wants to rake his fingers through Erik’s hair and muss it up. So he does. Erik’s head willingly falls under his hands, the latter’s arms wind his waist and their mouths crash in a searing kiss. 

Charles is a neurologist. He knows the number  _ and  _ names of the neuro receptors that are responsible for the sensation of a kiss. Knows the chemicals produced in the brain while kissing, making the action pleasurable. But for the life in him, he can’t remember any of them now. Kissing Erik is a hotchpotch of contradictions. The velvety touch of Erik’s tongue versus the raspiness of his stubble teasing Charles’ lips tantalisingly. The cold of the air on his back versus the heat of Erik’s firm chest to his front. It’s all a heady mix.

Charles should find the prospect of getting involved with Erik daunting, for If things go south between them, he’ll lose more than his best friend. But he doesn’t. It feels natural, like two hemispheres of the brain coming together and coupling in the middle. As organic as electric impulses jumping through synapses and as potent as an addictive drug.

When they pull back, it’s for air. 

‘How do you manage to get your bowtie crooked all the time?’ Charles asks, still in Erik’s arms. He straightens the black bow and rubs his palms over the width of Erik’s broad shoulders appreciatively.

Erik’s face is flushed and Charles suspects that the wind has little to do with it. ‘Are you still going to set me up with that girl from downstairs?’ Erik asks, a crooked smile covering his face.

‘God, No!’ Charles pulls him down for another kiss. 

*

**2 days later**

Emma comes waltzing into his office in a pristine white skirt and blazer. In her hand is a black file which she throws it on his desk. ‘The details of the  Brandeston case. Take the lead on this.’ 

‘Hello to you too Emma!’ Charles huffs. He picks up the file, opens it and stops. ‘Wait! Didn't you have to attend a conference today? How are you still here?’

‘Oh that!’ she waves him off with an incredulous look. ‘Well, I won a bet. The deal was that the loser would attend the conference. Hence currently, somewhere across the country,  Liliandra from Rheumatology is getting bored out her ass.’

‘May I know what the bet was about?’

‘Oh!’ Emma’s smile turns sly. ‘I bet that  sharkface and you would be an item by the end of the gala and she bet that it would take  at least a week after that . She should have known better than betting against me.’

Charles feels his face heat. Clearing his throat, he asks, ‘Isn’t it a little too presumptuous to think that Erik and I were going to be an item?’

Emma snorts. ‘Oh, nobody doubted that sugar. The only question was when.’

_ Were they that obvious?  _ Charles wonders when Emma leaves his office.

-

**Author's Note:**

> I am not sure if the medical system works the same way in other parts of the world as it does in mine. So please forgive the discrepancies !?


End file.
